


Frozen To The Bone

by NerdAndProudForever



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst, Fluff and Humor, Hijinks & Shenanigans, M/M, Mafia AU, Mafia Victor Nikiforov, Mutual Pining, Russian Mafia, Victor Nikiforov's Past
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-14
Updated: 2017-09-03
Packaged: 2018-12-15 07:44:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11801562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NerdAndProudForever/pseuds/NerdAndProudForever
Summary: MAFIA/BODYGUARD AU.Victor Nikiforov leads a dangerous life as the head of the Russian mafia. However, when Yuuri Katsuki shows up and saves his life, he will realise the most dangerous thing of all is his own heart.





	1. Cranium

_His father had always stressed on the importance of punishment._

_“There are rules and consequences to everything,” he had said repeatedly, until the words had embedded themselves under Victor’s skin._

_His skin was white as the icicles on top of his house. It was almost translucent, his green veins shone underneath his skin. The veins were like vines to him whenever he looked in the mirror, choking his wrists. The vines meandered up to his neck, and disappeared under the cool visage of his exterior. Bright blue eyes shone at his competitors. They looked kind, which was a contrast to the work he often had to do. People couldn’t fathom how a man with kind eyes such as Victor’s could look someone in the eyes, and hurt them. That’s what they didn’t know. Victor was made from the cold, fashioned by it, made to withstand it but also submit to it._

_Today, he was wearing a simple light blue coat over a black suit. Victor was only 15, so the coat still felt heavy on his back. Victor insisted on shopping at the men’s section, denying that his growth spurt had not favoured his petite body yet. His ebony trousers still hung a little too low. His shoes were Armani, and splattered with the blood of the man currently begging in front of him._

_The man was crying. He had a huge gash on the side of his ribs, his shirt was slashed, and he was breathing in heavy pants. The only sounds in the room were his screaming, and Victor’s father’s occasionally grunts of disgust at the weak man in front of them._

_His father had handed him a gun. He was standing behind Victor, like a proud father. It was as if he was sending Victor to school. It was a sleek gun, a Beretta M9. Judging by the weight, there was only one bullet in the chamber. The others had been emptied out. They were probably embedded deep in the flesh of his father’s rivals. The shrapnels would be floating in the cold Ivanovo Reservoir. But not the one in Victor’s hand. That one was reserved for a man in front of him, his current target._

_He was his father’s subordinate who had skimmed money from them. His father’s words echoed in his head, “Rules and consequences….”_

_“Please,” the man was crying freely, a dying man’s pleas. The gun felt exceptionally cold in Victor’s hands. “I had to feed my daughter, she’s sick, she’s dying, we needed money, please, please, don’t, don’t…….”_

_“Shut up!” his father rasped out, but the man didn’t stop and Victor felt the man’s pleas etching at his heart. He knew what was coming. He couldn’t try to change his father’s mind now. It was bound to happen. Some futures are meant to happen. The wheel of life was to be kept running, nothing could stop it. We were all hamsters in the wheel of life. Victor cracked a smile at the mental image and pure fear flashed in the man’s eyes. He probably thought Victor was mocking him._

_“My daughter, she’s only 6. Leukaemia, her mother, her mother died from it too. Please, sir, please, sir…” Victor had never seen someone cry in front of him like this man did._

_“Pull the trigger, Victor,” he said, and Victor complied. He would say anything to get the man to stop crying. His facade was crumbling. There was a loud deafening gunshot. It echoed around the room, and suddenly, it was quiet. The man’s screams were heard no more. Victor’s hands were shaking, and his grip on the gun loosened. It almost fell to the floor, but he gripped it tighter, his knuckles turning as white as his skin. The gun was now an extension of him._

_“No mercy, remember.” His father said, and then paused. “How was it? Killing your first man?” he continued, his voice indicating that he was indeed, proud._

_Victor swallowed an uncomfortable lump in his throat before turning around and smiling, tears threatening to blur his vision._

_“Fantastic.”_

 

* * *

  
  
Victor opened his eyes with a gasp. His sharp eyes met the eggshell white ceiling. Empty.

He stood up suddenly, making himself nauseous, but he ignored the nausea. He looked around frantically, his short silver hair swaying sharply. There was no blood in his room, no sounds of crying, he was alone. It was all a dream.

No, not a dream, a vivid memory.

Victor closed his eyes and rubbed his temple. His torso was bare, the only thing decorating it were a plethora of white scars, all faded. They marred the once smooth adolescent skin. He felt a chill at his spine. He wasn’t sure it was temperature related. Even though his room was properly heated, he still felt the chill.

He was getting a splitting headache.

He distinctly heard a knock and his blood froze. His hands instinctively gripped a black revolver lying beside his bed. The revolver was a Model 437 FDE Combat Grips. His fingers tightened around the leather at the base of it. He felt more at ease, with his fingers lightly stroking the etching on it. He memorised the grooves of his revolver before he looked at the door again. He took a minute to look at himself in the gilded mirror beside the door.

He looked unwell. His skin was still the same, translucent pale skin with green veins, but he had filled into his adolescent curves. His face had sharp angles, with cheekbones that could cut glass. His lips were red, as well as his nose. His forehead was slick with sweat. He looked fine, but if someone stared at him for long, they would notice what he didn’t want them to. Dark circles around his eyes, unruly and non-compliant hair, swishing around his forehead, lips chapped and his chest, heaving up and down. He looked as bad as he felt.

The rapping on the door was obnoxious now. “Come in,” he finally said and he heard the door open. It was Christophe Giacometti, one of his friends and right hand man. His most trusted advisor, in business and otherwise.

Christophe looked like the opposite of him, vibrant, sunny. He had a smile plastered on his face. He had beautiful green eyes. They looked like a mixture of both dark and light shades of freshly cut grass. With dew on top, his eyes truly sparkled. He was sporting a sharp undercut, with the top of his head bright blonde, and the dark fuzz of his hair was his natural color, a dark chestnut. His skin was slightly tanned, which just made him look full of life. He was wearing a velvet red suit. Victor must have slept for longer than he did, because if Christophe was getting ready to go out, it must be afternoon.

“Good afternoon. Why didn’t you wake me up sooner?” Victor grumbled and Christophe cracked a smile.

“Afternoon, boss. You looked peaceful. You deserve the rest,” he shrugged and Victor tried to dispute it, but it was true. He had been trying to handle the latest rumours of other crews trying to encroach on his territory. There was chatter of Turatello crew, one of the most powerful Milanese gangs, trying to expand into his homeland. He had been on the move non-stop, chasing down leads, threatening people, and torturing them. Along with that, he was trying to reassure his financial contributors that their contribution was safe. Nobody had told him being the head of a criminal organisation would involve so much bureaucracy.

“Any more news on the Turatello’s?” Victor asked, as he leaned back against his headboard.

“You know, we have this under control. You should rest. You don’t look good,” Christophe said, standing in the doorway, unsure. Victor followed his gaze and saw that Victor’s hand was still on his revolver. Christophe eyed it uneasily. Victor loosened his grip and pulled his hand back.

“Come now, I always look fantastic. I’m fine,” he said and smiled.

Christophe shook his head, not unlike a mother dealing with a petulant child and finally came into the room, closed the door behind them and spoke in a hushed whisper.

“We found someone, he was just some drug mule for some small gang in Rome. According to him, they were last seen in Ural. Last he heard anyway, there’s chatter of them being in Yekaterinburg. I’m waiting for more information, but if this proves to be true, I’ll send Yuri after them. Then I don’t think you’ll get to ever see them…” Christophe said and then added, “or their fingers.”

Victor cracked a small smile. His little brother was turning out to be quite the devil. Yuri Plisetsky. The Ice Tiger of Russia, as he was affectionately known. He was only 16, but he was ruthless. In a way, Victor was proud of him.

“That’s good,” he nodded. “Is it time?” Victor asked and Christophe nodded happily. He sat down on the edge of Victor’s bed, and smiled. Victor was glad at least someone was having fun with his organisation’s new ventures.

“Come on, Pakhan, today’s the opening for your new club.”


	2. Metacarpals

The Pakhan of the most vicious organisation in all of Europe was currently trying on a jacket covered in silver glitter.

“What do you think?” Victor said, twirling for Christophe, who he fondly called Chris, sitting on his bed, and Chris shook his head. He sipped from his tall glass of crystal champagne. He himself looked charming as ever, with his velvet suit. He had a white pocket square and matching shoes that were shined neatly. He was tapping those shoes impatiently. He didn’t want to be late, but of course, who could rush Victor while he was trying on clothes.

“No, no. Won’t do,” Chris shook his head. “You’re going to be all over the press, pick something that doesn’t flash too much. We’re going to be running a respectable business after all.” Chris winked and Victor rolled his eyes at the line filled with irony.

The club was just a front for most of his cash-based businesses anyway. He had come up with the idea a fortnight ago, when trying to decide how to move their money physically to one of their Russian provinces. They soon realised that if they had a physical headquarters they would be able to hold meetings, and transport shipment of drugs and cash under the guise of transporting liquor. Victor had reached out to his underlings, who had made the necessary arrangements, and soon decided that it was indeed the best idea he had had in ages. Along with that, the club could still function as place of entertainment, so that no one would be suspicious. It was a win-win for all of them. Victor was happy he would have a place that was his domain, outside his large mansion. The mansion was beautiful, but he didn’t want to be known as the “elusive Russian billionaire” anymore. The mansion was a golden cage, but it was a cage, nonetheless.

“Ooooh, pick up that grey pinstriped suit!” Chris said breaking Victor’s train of thought. He gestured to Victor’s closet and Victor obliged, taking the suit out of the coat hanger.

He was only wearing his boxers with a plain white shirt, but he slipped the tightly fitted jacket on and smoothened his collars. Chris hummed in appreciation.

“That’s great!” He purred and Victor smiled, looking at himself in the mirror.

 

* * *

 

Victor felt at place in his club, _Transfer_.

Chris had come up with the name after Victor had spent two hours trying to decide the name. Victor had an eye for detail. _Perfectionism to the point of neuroticism,_ Chris had grumbled and then shrugged and asked him why he was trying to hard to find a name for a place that was only going to be used for the transfer of goods and blood money. And lo, the name was born.

Victor was pleasantly buzzed. He had managed to finagle his way out of the throng of reporters and photographers who wanted to take his picture. He didn’t try to hide from the limelight, because he wanted to normalise the club and his presence. Nobody had seen much of him in public, so he just stood next to Chris with a glass of vodka in his hand, teeth brilliant flashing at the cameras. His new club was all the rage, and every press junket worth their salt was pointing their camera at him the minute he set foot out of his limo. His security guards had attempted to make sure the press stayed outside while Victor went inside and mingled with his friends.

People laughed and came up to him to tell him his club was spectacular, with it’s soft red mood lighting, and deep crimson walls. They told him they especially enjoyed his selection of exotic cocktails, with Armour Tail Scorpions floating in vodka, fresh off the coast of Thailand. He could hear giggles across the bar as friends dared each other to consume the main attraction of the night.

Somewhere between socialising with friends and talking to the bartenders, Chris had handed him a glass of his favourite vodka and Victor had proceeded to watch him go and try to find his boyfriend in between the throng of people occupying the dance floor. Some people moved rhythmically, others not. But everyone seemed to be laughing or smiling.

He was nursing a clear glass of his vodka, happily. He hadn’t let himself go for so long. He had been too preoccupied with He was sitting on a plush stool overlooking the bar. The bartender was happily chatting to him about how their Japanese cocktails were selling amazingly.

Victor was still happily buzzed, nodding to the bartender’s words, when he heard the first gunshot. It whizzed past his ear. Before he had time to react, another flew past his neck, almost severing his jugular vein. Logically, Victor’s mind immediately began creating a profile of his assassin. He wasn’t too experienced, then, if he was missing shots. He was so preoccupied with his analysis that he didn’t notice people screaming and then a man in a dark blue suit barrel straight towards him.

And then, he was knocked to the ground by that very man.

Victor let out a startled gasp as his seat tumbled backwards in almost slow-motion like fashion. His head hit the ground with more force necessary as he felt the weight of a body on top of him. He grumbled, his hand holding the shattered remnants of his vodka glass. He felt the glass cut into his skin, immediately followed by the sting of alcohol into his palm. He let out a painful hiss.

“What the—“

He stopped short of his complaining as the man in front of him raised his head, and with a stuttering breath asked, “Are you okay?”

The man was, without a doubt, the most beautiful creature in all of existence.

He had a beautifully angled face. He had high cheekbones, and a light blush was decorating them currently. If he was drunk, his body did not gave any inclination of that. He had thick eyebrows, and his eyes were the most beautiful colour Victor had ever seen. They were like the colour of his glass of whisky, when sunlight passed through it. An illuminated version of burnt sienna eyes. Victor could write sonnets about them. He also had thin lips that were chapped by the cold. The stranger’s skin was pale, aside from the blush decorating the rides of his nose. He didn’t look like he was a native Russian.

Victor couldn’t place his age, as his eyes were youthful and lively, but he had a sharp chin that made him look distinguished.

“I— I’m fine,” Victor said, as his chest heaved up and down and then he heard Chris shout from somewhere on his right.

“Victor! Oh my god, are you okay?” Chris said, stuttering to a halt as he took in a scene in front of him. A startled Asian man lying on top of his boss. _Now this was something you didn’t see everyday_. If someone hadn’t just tried to kill Victor, he would have taken a photograph.

It seemed as if the man had only begun realising their awkward positions their positions, let out an embarrassing squeak, and pushed himself on his palms. He quickly stood up, knocking himself back on the bar. Meanwhile, Chris helped Victor stand up, brushing off his coat. There was still glass on his sleeves, mixing with his crimson red blood. The scent of copper in the air was thick. Victor shook his sleeve with disdain. great, he was never going to get the smell out of vodka out of his favourite suit. He vaguely heard his security guards shouting at the patrons to calm down, but now, he only had eyes for the man in front of him.

“You saved my life…” Victor said, with awe. The man blushed, and cleared his throat. “I.. I just did what anyone would do,” he said and Victor shook his head.

With the line of work Victor was in, very few people would save his life.

“I work in security, so fast reflexes,” the man said, as a way of explanation and Victor looked at him with amazement, knowing if he actually knows he just saved the Pakhan.

“What’s your name?” Victor asked and the man smiled. “Katsuki Yuuri. But you can call me Yuuri,” he extended his hand and then stopped abruptly as he noticed something in Victor’s hand.

“Oh crap, you’re bleeding,” he said, holding Victor’s wrist delicately. Victor looked down and indeed, the glass had smashed fine lines into Victor’s hand, and crimson blood dotted over his skin.

“You should get out of here, bandage this. It’s not safe for you here,” he said and Chris, who had been standing behind Victor observing the growing scene with great interest suddenly chimed in.

“Mr. Katsuki’s right. Let’s go to the back office. I have a first aid kit there. Let the guards handle this while we take care of that hand,” Chris said, and Yuuri nodded as he slowly backed away. Victor felt a panic rise in his throat as he suddenly lurched forward and grabbed Yuuri’s sleeve with his bloody hand. Yuuri’s dark blue suit darkened more when Victor’s hand applied pressure to it, the blood seeping into the expensive fibres, and Yuuri look startled.

Victor would blame his adrenaline later, but he blurted out, “Stay with me. Please.”

Yuuri looked dazed, bit his lip, and then nodded.

Chris said nothing as he handed Victor a handkerchief to tie around his hand as a temporary gauze and they started walking towards the back office.

The tense silence was broken by Yuuri suddenly wondering out loud, “Who wants you dead?”

Chris and Victor shared a look. Revealing his identity to Yuuri now would be dangerous. They couldn’t trust him no matter how much Victor wanted to. Victor wanted to look in the boy’s brown eyes and declare every secret he had ever hidden away in the embers of his heart.

“Whoever wants my business to stop,” he blurted out and Chris looked at him knowingly, nodding at Yuuri.

“What business do you do?” he asked and Victor cleared his throat and said, “I own a lot of bars across Russia, I also have a delivery service.”

An arms and drugs delivery service, sure, but Yuuri didn’t need to know that. Yuuri seemed dissatisfied with the answer but nodded anyway until they reached the end of the hallway, with Victor’s office door.

Chris opened the door for them, into the plush office. Yuuri entered first. Victor grabbed Chris’s lapel and pulled his ear towards his mouth.

“Take care of this. Make sure the police doesn’t come here,” he said in a quiet whisper, and let go of Chris’s lapel. Chris nodded, pulling out his phone, no doubt already contacting the other members of his organisation. He quickly gestured towards a cabinet to indicate the first aid kit, and said, “There’s a kit in there. I have to take care of something. But thank you so much, Mr. Katsuki, for saving my boss’s life.”

Yuuri blushed and before he could say anything, Chris disappeared, closing the office door behind him in a fluid motion.

Victor’s table was solid glass, neatly polished so that he could see his reflection, a black chair. His throne. He sat down, exhausted. He didn’t feel like a king at that moment. He barely felt human.

Yuuri opened the cabinet and got the kit out. Setting it on Victor’s new desk, opened it and got the gauze and antiseptic out. He then dragged a chair that was opposite to Victor’s desk, right in front of his plush black throne. Yuuri sat down on the chair, and began applying the antiseptic on the gauze.

“This is going to hurt a little, Mr…..” Yuuri trailed off and Victor smiled..

“Nikiforov. Victor Nikiforov,” he said and Yuuri nodded, his face still flushed.

“What about about you, Mr. Katsuki? You already know so much about me, I want to know about you. I can tell you’re not a native, what brings your to Russia?”

“Please, like I was trying to tell your friend, call me Yuuri. And well, I work security,” Yuuri answered. He dug around in his pockets until he produced a business card and handed it in Victor’s uninjured hand. He then inspected Victor’s wounds for pieces of glass. When he was satisfied, he began dabbing the gauze with antiseptic. Victor let out a hiss, as the antiseptic stung, but he forced words to come out of his mouth.

“Chulanont Security?” Victor read from the card and Yuuri nodded, “Yeah. It’s run by my best friend. We mostly do private security. That’s why I’m in Russia, actually. We have a client here, Mila Babicheva. She had her sweet 16th birthday recently and we were hired for security. It was fun, but you know teenagers…,” Yuuri rolled his eyes and Victor stifled a giggle as Yuuri complained about teenagers, and slowly began wrapping new

There fell a heavy silence over the room, with the only sound of Victor’s laboured breathing, realising how deep the cut really want. The vodka in the cut especially stung but Victor braved it. He didn’t want to seem weak in front of this beautiful stranger. Yuuri finally finished his task, looking at the clean streaks of red with strange pride.

He tied a knot around the bandage with expert efficiency, making it a little tight, and looked at Victor’s sneakingly blue eyes. He didn’t know if it was the alcohol, or the faint blood loss, but he felt an emotion he hadn’t felt for a long time.

Yuuri smiled. “All better?”

Victor felt himself nodding instantaneously, as if his body was replying to the smile rather than his mind.

“All better.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait! I'm a perfectionist, and I've been editing this chapter for over a week now haha!
> 
> Please don't forget to review, comment, or leave kudos! I love every single one of you readers!

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on tumblr oscarborn2bwilde! Please leave kudos, comments and subscribe! Reviews make fanfiction authors very happy! 
> 
> (A very special thanks to my sister for helping me pick the title and fix some technical errors! I love you!)


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